


More than Enough

by HisagiJ69



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Angst, I don't really know what I was thinking, M/M, Sadness, Sorrow, Spoilers, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-05 00:29:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4158699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisagiJ69/pseuds/HisagiJ69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oz and Alice decided that is the only way to save the world they cherish: to scarifice themselves in order to turn the Abyss back to its original form. Even knowing Gilbert will be left behind to miss him, Oz can't go back. (OzXGil one short shot :P )</p>
            </blockquote>





	More than Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I really don't know what I was thinking :P It was late at night and this came to my mind so I decided to write it :) (didn't exactly come out the way I intended, but I will post it anyway) :) Thank you for the attention and feel free to tell me what you thought (be it good or bad) ^_^ I mean it, that because I'm a newbie in the "fanfiction/writing world" and any critics meant to help me improve will be very appreciated :3

Gilbert searched in his pocket for a cigarette to smoke. He found the pack. He opened it. All mechanically, all without a single thought. His fingers were shaking as he took the cigarette and, after a short moment of hesitation when he asked himself if he really wanted to smoke, he shoved it into his mouth and struggled to fire the lighter near its tip. He felt dizzy and couldn’t explain why his hands were so unsteady and his mind so blank. What he felt was not nervousness, it was something else entirely, an anxiety so deep that he wasn’t able to figure out. He inhaled the tobacco with enough intensity to make his lungs burn. A strange kind of pain that felt somehow tranquilizing.

            The door of the room opened slowly and Gilbert turned his head with no energy. A crown of blond hair peeked, and soon Oz was there, looking up at his servant before drawing a small smile and entering the room. “Alice finally fell asleep.” He announced, lowly and looking down at the floor. A long pause made itself heard before the boy took a deep breath and looked up, his smile a little bigger, but still as sad as before. “I thought you would be sleeping already, Gil.” The silence indicated that he was waiting for an answer. None came, nevertheless. “Maybe we should go to bed now, right?” He proposed. “Tomorrow will… be a long day.”

            “Hum… Yes. Of course.” As if suddenly awaken from his lethargy, Gilbert took the cigarette out of his mouth and stood up from his chair. He took one step. A single step that would have been perfectly fine in any other occasion, yet tonight his legs didn’t felt like his own, were so numb that he wasn’t even able to stand properly, causing him to stumble and fall. The man heard Oz cry out his name in worry before his knees hit the ground. And he was suddenly _crushed_.

            Oz stepped forward, by instinct at first, but then froze in his place, caught by surprise by the picture in front of him.

            It was a weight so heavy that didn’t let Gilbert lift his shoulders or head, it was a pain so piercing that it enabled him from talking or even thinking. He only knew, as his nails involuntarily scratched the wooden floor, it just hurt too bad. All of it just hurt too bad for him to bear. All the knowledge, all the previous ignorance, all the time he spent thinking and he spent not doing so, every moment he felt warm or cold, all the years he had lived and all the ones he had wasted, it was all just _too much_. He noticed he was crying only when a tear hit the back of his hand, sending a cold chill up his spine.

            Oz watched him in silence. He watched Gilbert kneeling as if in prayer, yet his head down, as a man who had no hope left to pray. And he could hear the sound of tears hitting the ground, loud in the small and quiet room. He bit his own lip in hesitation between pity and anger, relief and sadness. For he couldn’t know how to react watching his servant like that. He should, though. Because he always had, because Gilbert had been his to protect and console for his all life, and yet this time it was different. This time he could almost see it, reachable, his best friend’s broken heart. And it was just like looking at his own reflection in a mirror, so it was most of all frightening. When he breathed in to gain courage and step forward, his voice still came out as a pained whisper. “Gil…” Only the sound of the Raven’s harsh breathing and no answer. Oz gulped, a gesture that he never thought could be so difficult, and slowly, hesitantly, moved forward to kneel before Gilbert. “Gil…”

            Gilbert heard his name being called, whispered, now very close, and yet the noise echoed in his ears like if coming from a distant and unknown place. That aching pain he felt in his chest was spread through all of his body and he could imagine his own bones cracking and flesh be teared apart. It had nothing to do with the recent seal of the illegal contract in his chest, neither had it to do with his not long ago cut off arm. Alice had fell asleep, Gilbert heard Oz say. Gilbert wished he could do the same. He wished he could just fall there on the floor and sleep, sleep long enough so that he could wake up to find out all of this was nothing but a nightmare, sleep long enough for Oz to wake him up and say that everything was alright, that he would stay as he was supposed to. Or else, Gilbert couldn’t avoid thinking, that he could sleep forever and end that agonizing pain.

            Oz had his jaws clenched in a try not to waver. It was hard. It was so hard and yet he knew he had to. For Gilbert, he had to be strong. The boy landed one hand over the dark haired servant’s shoulder and leaned closer. “Gil, please… don’t cry.”

            Gilbert took a deep breath, deep enough to hurt his sore lungs, and pulled his head up to look at his master. He was there. Light golden locks framing his angelical face, big green eyes shining their way to his heart like they always had, soft hand pressing his shoulder with the usual gentle strength. That was Oz, so beautiful and close enough for him to touch. And how he wanted to! How he just wanted to jump forward and hug the boy’s fragile body with his arm, cry all of his fears away and beg for protection. Yet, at the same time, Oz was so far, further than he had ever been. For had the noble been trapped in the Abyss for ten years, Gilbert had clung on to that uncertain hope of getting him back. But now it was different. Now Oz had decided. Alice had decided. They had decided and Gilbert had, incapable of anything else, agreed. He had willingly allowed that tragedy to be planned and he knew that, would he stand up and walk to his room, waking up the next day, it would be the last day he would ever see Oz. The mere thought, some minutes ago too abstract to be properly absorbed, was now so tangible that it was impossible for Gilbert to hold back his tears. “I-… I can’t!” He cried out.

            No. Oz didn’t want that. Gilbert couldn’t do that to him, he thought, not now, not like this. Not ever, he decided. “Gil, no…”

            “I just can’t!” The man continued. “I thought I could but I can’t! I can’t let you go like this, I can’t let you sacrifice your life like this. Please… Please don’t go!”

            “Gil, there… there is no other way.”

            “It has to be another way!” The man shouted, almost imploring, even though he knew no entity, be it divine or human, would be able to assist him. “This can’t… this can’t be the only way! Please, I… I will… Let us run away! Please, Oz, come with me, we’ll get away from here, I-I can find a way to solve this, just please…” His coherence was non-existent and his sobbing compulsive when he lowered his head once again. “Please…”

            “Gilbert… Listen to yourself.” Oz begged with a crooked chuckle. “You know it’s not that easy… You know we can’t do that.” His tone became even lower, for seriousness or sorrow, no one could really tell. “We have to do this. To save the world.”

There were no arguments. Gilbert knew as well as everybody else that that was the only option. Would they not execute the plan as intended, there would be no world left for them to exist anymore. Yet he was losing it. He was losing reason, all of it consumed by the raw pain in which his being was converted right now. “I don’t care about the world!” He admitted, out of breath, as if the mere fact of being awake was drawing all energy out of him. “The world means nothing if you’re not in it! I know I am being selfish but I can’t regret it…” The hand he flattened against the floor to hold his weight moved with difficulty to reach for Oz’s chest, clinging onto the tissue of his jacket with a grip tight enough for the man’s fingers to get pale. It was hard to breathe and it was hard to keep his eyes opened, but Gilbert spoke as his body unconsciously leaned forward to close the already short distance he kept from his master. “I can’t regret… needing you. I need you, Oz…”

            And his voice was so fragile, so shaky and so distressed that Oz found it terrifying. During his whole life he’d acted strong, he’d pulled back his fears to keep on smiling. But this one image, this one of his beloved servant’s teary eyes hosting such despair, was by far the scariest thing he’d ever seen. Oz found words lacking once again. Why was it so hard now? He just had to do what he always did. He would pat the man’s head with a steady gesture, he would brightly smile and say that everything would be alright. Oz reached for Gilbert’s head. “Hey, Gilbert.” He mumbled as he drew a bigger smile. He took a deep breath. “It’ll all be…”

            Surprise was the emotion that took care of the boy when he felt a tear running down his cheek, burning his skin on its track, and dropping to the floor. Gilbert sensed that hesitation, even in his slumber, and looked up to see his master crying. A single and lonely tear that represented all Oz tried to evade showing to no avail. The boy took both hands to his face, still unbelieving, the smile now vanished, and opened his mouth to let out a quiet sob. “It…” It would not. It would never. Not for Gilbert. Tears started falling continuously from his deep green eyes, as a torrent of unkempt emotions he did not want to hold. He stared at Gilbert with pity, but with sadness above all, because he knew those words he was about to say were the pure truth, and that that truth would cut through his friend like a sharp knife. And the only thing that saddened him even more was the fact that he could not spare him from that pain, that he could not avoid hurting his friend and companion. “It will not be alright, Gilbert.” He took a deep breath. “I am… so sorry, Gil. You deserved a better master.” One that could keep you from harm and suffering, he wanted to explain, but found no strength to.

            Oz was right. Those words were indeed sharp blades and they indeed cup deep through Gilbert as he watched his most important person cry over them. It hurt unbearably but, at the same time, he knew it needed to hurt. He knew now that no feelings like the ones he held for Oz could exist without hurting. Though, what moved him in that moment, what made him gather inexistent forces to tilt over the smaller body in front of him, had been those last pained words. Was Oz not expecting, he found himself cuddled by Gil’s clumsy self, an arm surrounding his back and crashing him against the man’s chest, a face buried into the crook of his neck. He felt Gilbert’s warm tears staining his cloth and skin, he felt messy raven hair tickling his cheek, he felt the scent of tobacco strong on his nostrils, he felt fast and unsteady heartbeats keeping on with his own. And every one and all of those sensations were Gilbert. And so he was feeling only Gilbert. He was feeling the raw concern, he was feeling the crude sadness, he was feeling the hitching sorrow, he was feeling the nude pain. And it was just too much to feel.

            “Don’t you ever say that.” Gilbert mumbled against him. Oz’s confusion was wiped away when the man continued, still crying. “I… I would’ve wished for no master but you, Oz!”

            It was it. Oz noticed, all of a sudden, that that weight involving him was more than he had thought. It was selfless devotion, it was plain commitment, it was pure affection. The blond boy suddenly knew all of those from Gilbert, building him, defining him as whole. And he saw those reflecting his own. For that fear was far from surpassed, for that bond between them was nothing near broken, for that need was not one sided.

            For that love was mutual. And was strong. And was _undying_.

            Oz found his voice to talk again, in a whisper, his lips shyly curving into a short smile, this one not intended. “Me too. I’m glad you’ve been my valet, Gilbert. You were the best one I could’ve asked for. Thank you.”

            And it was with this sudden certainty that Oz held on to Gilbert as well, letting his tears pour freely against the other’s chest. For those tears belonged to one another, belonged together, just as themselves. And that love that united them so completely would not fade, not even when distance or time did separate them, nor even when pain threatened to kill their souls. And maybe because they were meant to belong, it was so hard to let go, or exactly because of that it was _required_ for them to let go. And maybe they should not feel that way, maybe it was wrong and sinful. Maybe no such pure and beautiful feeling was allowed to exist in the twisted world they were a part of and maybe they were being punished for trespassing all invisible imposed boundaries. And all of those “maybes” wandered through their minds as if imposed by fate itself, but both of them refused to believe it. And even if all of it were true, it would have been worth it. If only for the years they spent together, if only for those years they had truly lived, even if only for those brief moments of understanding, _it had been worth it_.

            And Gilbert knew he had to be strong and he knew he would. He knew he would stop crying. If not tonight, if not tomorrow, if not after a year, maybe after ten, or twenty. The tears would eventually dry out and the pain would eventually become bearable. And as he fervently wished for it, he also knew it would never really fade. Not those scars traced by love and loss, for those, he knew with a certain happiness, would forever remain and remind him of what he was, of what he was always meant to be.

            In that small cold room, they embraced not only one another, but also the destiny awaiting them the next day, knowing that accepting it was the only option. Embraced in that small cold room, darkness surrounded them but not truly their hearts. Those, in spite of broken and fragile, were part of one another and would always be. Oz knew that when he went away, when he waved goodbye and left this world for good, his heart would forever remain, for it belonged to Gilbert and no other. And Gilbert knew that as well, willing to cherish it with all of his might, willing to bear the pain and joy of that simple act. To know that was enough. To keep on going, to keep on living even when not together anymore. It had to be enough. For both.

            That love, they agreed in thought, even lived briefly as it was meant to, was endless in all of its worth. And it was actually more than enough.


End file.
